Aymeric smiles slightly, tilting his head to concede the point - and accept the implied compliment.
He wouldn't mind so much, he thinks, being subject to Estinien's attention. It would feel like a victory he never expected to crave, for one, but more importantly everything he's learned about Estinien implies that he would care more about who Aymeric is and what he can do than he'd listen to petty gossip or familial reputation. He'd like to be measured on his own deeds and not where he came from.
(It's a desire shared by a lot of knights, he knows, and yet despite that so many of them will still judge each other for the very thing they don't wish to be judged for themselves)
Estinien looking away is at once a relief and disappointment. He felt caught by those eyes as surely as if they were a lance pinning him in place, it was an intense feeling... but he didn't hate it.
(He shouldn't let his mind linger on the idea of Estinien pinning him into place, it brings other thoughts that are rather difficult to ignore)
"Stubbornness, I think," he admits with a faint smile "and a certain determination. Traits you clearly share, given your single minded pursuit of our foe..."
lads is it gay to ask a cute boy to sword fight with you
That coaxes a laugh out of Estinien. Just a single, coarse huff of air, like it's a sound he's not accustomed to making. One that needs the dust shaken off before it's of any use.
"We have something in common?" he wonders, amused but unsure. Estinien's stubbornness has never been hailed as a virtue -- at least, not 'til now. Charmless obstinance, a tutor had called it that once, and that had been one of the nicer descriptions.
No teacher, no master, would ever call Ser Aymeric's own stubbornness charmless or obstinate -- that much is obvious from a glance.
Aymeric, Estinien thinks to himself, tipping his gaze up to examine him through his lashes, has the makings of a classic Ishgardian hero. Estinien may not have known him before, but Ever Lakes had shown him to be steadfast. Just foolhardy enough to be courageous instead of stupid. And, looking at him now, fine featured and carefully composed, with that mysterious smile--oh, yes, the bards will be singing of him.
So, it feels strange to have their qualities compared favorably, and by the man himself even. Is it idle flattery? Probably. In the city proper, it so often is, but Estinien doesn't really care. No, as he tips his chin back up, he decides that he would not at all mind being idly flattered by Ser Aymeric for an evening.
The bar maid returns with a flagon at just that moment, stopping Estinien from getting annoyed with himself for having such useless thoughts. He accepts the drink with a nod of thanks, doing his best impression of even composure, then turns his attention back to Aymeric.
"Aye, perhaps we do." They call him a lone wolf for a reason. Why form attachments when it seems the fate of soldiers and common folk is to die in fire? Why worry about anything but stopping this war? He is not given to putting names to faces, let alone forging bonds. So, he isn't sure why he decides to add, "Grounds enough to me. Even if our superiors see fit to put us in separate units, I would not mind training with you from time to time. Lance against sword?"
Aymeric's lips quirk into a slight smile at Estinien's musing - he doesn't sound convinced, but Aymeric is. He's a little - or a lot - more diplomatic than Estinien is, he can already tell that much, but that doesn't make him any less determined to see his goals realised. He just does it in a slightly different way.
Then Estinien is looking up through his lashes and Aymeric is struck by just how impossibly beautiful he is. All cool shades and sharp edges like he's been carved from marble, or ice, but there's nothing cold about him at all - no, Estinien is heat and fire and passion that draws Aymeric in like a moth. It should make him just as untouchable, but against all good sense Aymeric finds himself more than willing to get burned.
Estinien has to be the one, surely, his soulmate. Aymeric has never wanted anyone like this, not ever.
His smile grows a little wider at the offer and he nods with a barely a moment's hesitation.
"I would be delighted to go a few rounds with you... in the training field." He says smoothly. The pause is brief, brief enough that one might be forgiven for thinking they imagined, or for missing it altogether. It's definitely there, though.
He is not given to noticing little pauses, to picking up on implied meanings, or bothering to acknowledge them on the rare occasion when he does. But this one? This one he notices, like grasping hot metal.
It's the color, he decides in that moment. This is what happens to everyone. You see a person, and suddenly you're mad with little distractions -- midnight dark hair, impossibly blue eyes, and slender shoulders that belie what must surely be a strong form.
What an absolute waste of time. Estinien takes a drink, hoping the ale will cool some of the heat building under his skin. It does not. So in the next second, he resolves to solve this insistent feeling by satisfying it.
...After a bit of fun.
Estinien's faint smirk pulls into a grin, "And if you can best me there, perhaps elsewhere, as well."
Aymeric sips at his own drink, letting the silence settle between them and just waiting - he's quietly certain that Estinien has picked up on his implication, there's something about the other man's expression that suggests he's mulling it over, and Aymeric is wildly curious to see what he's going to do about it.
When the grin settles across Estinien's lips, Aymeric's own smile becomes smugly pleased, even before he speaks. The words draw a laugh from him, and a rush of unexpected delight. It's hardly a surprise that Estinien is so much more forthright, less prone to dancing around a subject with careful euphemisms the way Aymeric does, but it is quite refreshing. Flattering, too.
"I see." he says softly, taking another sip of his drink as if considering the offer, despite knowing full well he's going to agree to it "Well, if besting you in the training field is what it's going to take, I shall have to make sure I do not lose."
nearby patrons are getting up to leave because the UST is disrupting the vibe
Estinien hmphs, another sound partway to laughter.
Aymeric may wear a perfectly cool smile, he may seem effortlessly collected, utterly composed, but Estinien can see that he is a gambler. Stubborn, yes, and audaciously ambitious, too. Perhaps they do have something in common -- many things, even.
Estinien can see the fire burning him. Just a hint of it, there in that smug smile and his performatively slow thoughtfulness, like a furtively stolen glimpse of another soldier's form in the barracks, when you aren't quite sure whether they'd meant to be seen.
It is a blaze not unlike his own. Less dark, perhaps, but burning no less hot. And, near as he can tell, directed entirely his way, at the moment.
He likes it. A bit too much, actually. Would love to have the chance to coax it out of him, see it unmasked on his face, in his eyes, in brilliant color. And maybe it'd be most efficient to just get a room upstairs and fumble through finding it now, but no -- it'll be all the better if the flame is first stoked.
Like a dare, Estinien says, "Best not disappoint me, Ser Aymeric. When shall we have our contest?"
Aymeric had fully intended to bring up soulmates during this meeting, had wanted to make subtle enquiries to determine if Estinien was, in fact, the reason he now saw in full colour - if Estinien saw it too. It's rare to be so easily distracted from his purpose, and yet right now he doesn't even care if Estinien is his soulmate, as long as he doesn't stop flirting with him.
(He's sure he is, he must be, for things to get so heated between them so quickly, it only made sense)
His smile doesn't waver, but his eyes burn with determination at the challenge Estinien lays down before him.
"Why not tomorrow? If you are recovered well enough..." He doesn't want to waste any time at all getting this man into his bed.
If asked directly whether he or Estinien would win in a fight, he might have been unsure, they were both very capable. In these circumstances? He isn't going to let himself lose.
There is something elemental about that light in Aymeric's eyes, and again Estinien finds that he can't look away.
Since he'd been pulled from the burning ruins of his home, Estinien had wanted for only one thing. It is a strange feeling, desiring aught else. But, it is there now, amid all this new color. But soulmates don't even enter into this. It's just hunger, and yes, it is a gnawing one, sudden and sizzling. A raw desire to see what animal thing hides beneath that perfect smile.
He will focus better once it's sated. And until then, well, it's fun, trying to get the pretty high born boy to crack.
Estinien makes a point of letting his gaze travel slowly down Aymeric's form, then back up to his eyes once more. "You're sure you can wait that long?"
There's something about the way Estinien's gaze keeps catching on him that sends lightning racing up and down Aymeric's spine, and he finds himself idly wondering if he'll ever get used to being the focus of the other man's attention. He's not sure he wants to.
Having those stormy eyes trace down his body, too, is a thrill that brings a satisfied smirk to his lips and in truth he's not sure he can wait that long, but he maintains his composure. Strangely, it helps him quell the raging fire of his wanting to know that the feeling is clearly entirely mutual - it's going to happen sooner or later, he doesn't have to embarrass himself by being desperate about it.
"Are you?" He returns with a quirk of his eyebrow.
He is not, but this is a game, now. And Estinien does not stand down from a challenge so easily.
In a battle of words, Estinien is sure that Ser Aymeric will eventually emerge victorious, but he is not totally unarmed, himself. He has his taciturn obstinance to rely on. One shoulder pops up in a noncommital shrug, and he takes a long drink of ale before responding.
"You'll find, Ser Aymeric, that I can be very patient when needed." He tilts his chin up in an effort to hide the smile that tips the corners of his mouth. "Hunting dragons, as I'm sure you know, helps to build that sort of endurance."
Some part of Aymeric is wondering if he isn't shooting an arrow into his own foot by meeting this challenge head on and delaying the chance to get his hands on Estinien, but a much larger part of himself knows that Estinien wouldn't be nearly so interested if Aymeric conceded too soon.
Well, that and he's having far too much fun to give in, no matter how his baser urges might desire it.
The tilt of Estinien's head does nothing to hide the smile, and Aymeric's expression is still very much like a contented cat with an entire bowlful of cream.
"Ah, yes, one imagines it does..." He agrees smoothly "I shouldn't worry, though, such endurance is not like to be required, I'll beat you soon enough."
Aymeric's persistence earns him a genuine grin from Estinien. "I look forward to it."
What a strange man he is. Clearly a superlative speaker and soldier, and nigh imperturbable to boot. He'd be better served putting his talents to use making friends among the other noble house sons and brothers who stand to inherit. And yet, here he is, in a dark tavern, making foolish deals with a lowborn orphan.
Estinien is not often intrigued by people, but this young man -- Estinien cannot deny that he is interesting.
"If you can't beat me, though, I'd have payment..." he doesn't need to think it over, he already knows what he wants, but he still pauses a moment to gauge Aymeric's reaction before adding, "Information, maybe. About you."
Aymeric, of course, would argue that somebody as gifted and ambitious as Estinien is surely going to rise through the ranks, if not follow in his mentor's footsteps and become the Azure Dragoon himself, and actually he's an excellent person to form a connection with.
If he was actually thinking about Estinien in such terms, which he isn't. He's actually struggling to think about anything in that moment beyond how beautiful Estinien's smile is and how he wants to see it again and again.
He does snap out of it when the other man speaks, though, the shifting terms of the bet earning a raised eyebrow from him as he considers it.
"Very well." he says after a moment - he's hardly going to say no to something so simple, not when it's something Estinien could find out so easily anyway, and especially not when he's frankly flattered that Estinien would consider information about him something worth wagering.
"If you win, I will answer any three questions you wish."
"Three questions. Does that scale?" Estinien asks, his smile going smug, "Each time I best you -- three more questions?"
He's being more than a bit of an ass, admittedly, but however he may seem to be behaving, he can at least readily admit to himself that he does wish to know more about Aymeric de Borel. His background, what drives him to such persistence, perhaps his aspirations, his interests, what sort of food he likes--
Well, the why of it all, he can lie to himself about that easily enough. But, whatever his motivations, knowing more about Ser Aymeric feels... beneficial. In many, many ways.
"If you chance to best me more than once, or at all, then yes. Three questions each time."
He's still quite determined to win this little bet, but it's rather encouraging that Estinien seems intent on giving him more chances - it confirms that they would both rather be tumbling in the sheets than on a practice field, but they're also both too stubborn to back down from this. Not that Aymeric sees the need to back down if he's going to get what he wants - what they both want - in the end anyway, even if it does take him a few attempts.
"We have a deal." He says with a nod, draining the rest of his tankard.
Estinien likes those odds. Likes that, one way or another, he'll get what he wants. Physical or not, it's a curiosity satisfied.
"I look forward to our match, Ser Aymeric," he says with unhidden arrogance. He sees no reason to hide his cofindence. He will win, easily, he's sure of it. And perhaps the Estinien of a bell ago would've been satisfied with that much -- settling a bet neatly -- but Estinien now, well, he's intrigued by the bet.
He fishes a few gil out of his pocket and sets them on the table, to cover the drinks, as promised, and downs the contents of his flagon. "I will see you tomorrow, then. Noon. On the training field?"
"As do I." Aymeric agrees with that same smug little smile. Either way it turns out, it's going to be interesting, he thinks.
"Tomorrow at noon." he confirms before wishing Estinien a good night. He practically floats back to the De Borel manor afterwards - he could be spending his nights in the dormitories, but like many young knights with noble families he takes advantage of being actually in Ishgard to split his time between there and home. He's up bright and early the following morning, though, already heading to the temple knights' headquarters to get some warm up training in before the fight.
At noon on the dot, he's waiting in the training field. A few other young knights are gathered nearby, having gotten the sense that something was about to happen and sticking around to watch the show.
After days spent convalescing in the gray-brown shadows of the Knight's infirmary, the last thing Estinien wants is to go to some darkened room to contemplate his day -- or, worse yet, return home and endure Alberic pressing him about this new strange change in his behavior again.
So, Estinien whiles away his evening wandering the streets of Ishgard. Though it's made him cross, he can't deny that this new vibrance has made the world much more interesting. It's easy to get lost in all this new detail, green in the Hoplon, gold decorating the Vault, fluttering red in banners and flame, and blue... everywhere.
All that blue, and none of it quite like the clear light in Ser Aymeric's eyes.
Estinien concludes his evening in the Brume, purposefully losing a few rounds of a dice game with teenagers gathered round a blazing sconce, before carrying his tired body back to the dormitories to sleep.
Much like Aymeric, he wakes early the next morning, though his own warm up takes him out to Coerthas. In a rare show of promptness, he arrives to their appointed showdown at precisely noon, and ignores both the hushed murmurs that erupt from the gaggle of onlookers at his arrival and the little leap his heart gives when he spies his sparring partner.
Best to get this squared away -- though, not without a bit of good-natured trash talk, first.
"Really, Ser Aymeric?" Estinien muses with a smile, readying his lance with a sweep that points the business end toward the gathered knights. "Brought your fan club?"
[ was going to handwave us past the fight with this tag, but I figure Aymeric may want to respond to Estinien being a shit. we can scoot past the fight in another tag or two? ]
"No. There is only one person's presence on this field that I care about." Aymeric says smoothly, a hint of a smirk crossing his lips "Though I can't deny it will be enjoyable to have witnesses for my victory."
It's bravado pure and simple, in truth he'd rather not have anybody else around, he has a feeling this fight might be a lot more interesting without witnesses. Still, he was truthful about the first part - his focus is on Estinien and nobody else.
"If you're ready to begin, shall we?" He says, drawing his sword in readiness.
i powerplayed a wee bit for the handwave so plz plz let me know if that wasn't cool and I'll edit!!
Wholly unprepared for Aymeric's boldness, Estinien laughs, quick and bright -- a far different sound than the harsh rushes of air that had escaped him in the tavern the day before. It sets his features alight, first in amusement, and then, with fire -- baldly excited by what's to come.
"Aye," Estinien drops his stance, "Let's see your skill with a blade."
An inexperienced swordsman against a young man who'd spent nearly half his life with spear in hand -- Estinien expects their clash to be brief.
It is not.
Though clearly unmatched in trained skill with his chosen weapon, Aymeric more than meets Estinien in sheer relentlessness. Each time it seems Estinien nearly has him, Aymeric comes back at him twice as fierce. He wants this, badly, even Estinien can tell. And it only makes the flame beneath his own skin burn hotter. Still, though. He won't give victory away -- not today.
They're both nearly spent when Estinien finally disarms him. The fight ends with Aymeric on the ground and Estinien crouched over him, breathing heavily, lance point to neck.
Aymeric is maddeningly beautiful with his face flush, sweat damp dark hair stuck to his forehead. The gathered crowd -- which had only grown in number once their fight had begun -- erupts in cheers, but Estinien doesn't even notice. For the first time since gray had become red and green and blue and gold, he thinks... this, the bleed of color into his life had been worth it for this.
He stows his lance and offers his arm to help Aymeric up. He has three questions to ask him now, three chances to learn more, but what he blurts instead is, "Rematch. In five days."
Aymeric is not expecting victory to be easy - in fact he, like Estinien, is half expecting defeat to come swiftly. He's fairly sure some of the watching knights are expecting that too.
He's determined, though, and stubborn, and that seems to count for something - he refuses to give up, until the world narrows down to only the two of them, the watching crowd fades away and there's nothing but the ringing clash of sword against lance and the mingled sound of their breaths coming heavier and heavier as the match continues.
Eventually, though, the strain of it gets to him, a slightly fumbled swing. He might have gotten away with it against a lesser opponent but of course Estinien jumps upon the opening without hesitation, and in what seems like moments his sword is lost and he's on his back with the tip of Estinien's lance just pressing into his neck - enough for him to feel its presence, but not enough to be painful or draw blood.
It is, he thinks, staring up at Estinien's silvery eyes, shockingly hot.
He doesn't even have the energy to feel bad about thinking that.
He smiles ruefully, taking the offered hand and pulling himself to his feet. He's already intending on asking for a rematch anyway when Estinien, flatteringly, is the first one to say it. His smile becomes a little more pleased, despite the loss, and he nods.
"Five days." he agrees - he'd want sooner, in truth, but he could take the time to prepare.
"And in the meantime, your questions." He says easily, moving to retrieve his dropped sword and sheathe it "Now, if you like, or once we've both had opportunity to catch our breath."
Estinien shoots him an incredulous look, grin wry, but expression warm and amused. Even he must admit to himself, beyond mere physical attraction, there is much to admire about Aymeric. Not least of all, his tenacity. But... those are things to be noticed in private. Not in front of a crowd. He points a gloved thumb over his shoulder, toward the still assembled onlookers, "Let's at least get away from this lot, first. I can barely hear myself think."
He's never cared for crowds, for attention, for anything remotely like adulation. Attentive gazes, hushed whispers -- he doesn't know what to do with them, and so he balks. Turns on his heel, ready to leave the training field behind, but... he doesn't just go. He waits, to be sure Aymeric is following, and doesn't speak until he's fetched his waterskin and a fresh towel from a nearby bench.
The skin, he offers to Aymeric, along with his first question, "You're House Borel, right?" He towels the sweat from his brow. "What're your grand plans once you've finished obligatory service? Politics? Clergy? Leisure?"
Aymeric just nods easily, though in truth he's a little grateful - he doesn't expect Estinien to ask anything that others haven't already heard, but he also doesn't know what he'll ask, what kind of thing a man like him might want to find out. As much as he's tried to learn about the other knight since first laying eyes on him, there's still so much about him that's a mystery, so much he hides behind a wall.
It's a wall Aymeric would very much like to bring down.
Aymeric at least spares enough of his attention to give a nod to one or two of the onlookers, but he sweeps after Estinien fast enough to discourage any questions or conversation.
He takes the offered waterskin with a quiet thank you, takes a long sip and tries to focus on the questions and not how Estinien looks all worked up and sweaty.
"I do hope that is not your first question, it would be rather a waste." He observes with a faint smirk "Aye, though, I am of House Borel."
By adoption, but that's more information than he's ben asked for. Not that he's counting it as a question.
"I'm not sure I have any grand plans, in truth." He admits with a light laugh "I imagine I will likely remain with the Temple Knights, perhaps work my way to some kind of command if I am able, though I daresay that is a consideration for the future."
If he even has one - they take their lives in their hands every time they step onto the battlefield, after all.
Estinien has never had real cause to banter before. It feels like such an odd fit on him, such a waste of time, when there's training to do, revenge to be had, and wars to be won. But... there is something so easy and quick about Aymeric's voice, something so infuriatingly, obnoxiously charming about his smiles. Not to be dramatic, but earning one -- even a smirk like that -- gives the same sort of jolt to Estinien's nervous system as planting his lance in a dragon's side.
He rolls his eyes.
"Pff. So much sass from you, Ser Aymeric," Estinien teases, brows beetled. He is no good at this, and lands somewhere between impressed and appalled. "Seems to me, you might also have a future as a headmaster. Nitpicking grammar and posture."
He complains, but Aymeric's real answer had not gone unheard. The knight aspires to greatness, but in a way that most little lordlings don't. No real certainty, no bloviating, no mention of the dreaded, 'my father'. Aymeric is... honest, realistic, intriguing. Fun.
Estinien rolls his shoulders and rights himself, pretending he's not just showing off his physique, "Shall I stand up straighter for you, Professor?" A pause, then a grin, "That's not my second question, either."
Aymeric stifles his laugh at the response, feeling a warmth blossom in his chest at the icy Estinien having thawed enough to tease. It feels nice.
He has had cause to banter before, but it's never felt so enjoyable as even this small needling comment. Sometimes, banter from others has an edge to it, a cruelty that strays a little too close to the bone. This is just nice.
"Well somebody ought to nitpick, you're clearly skilled enough that you're going to go far, and that's going to require a certain amount of etiquette. I consider it a service to the future to polish those rough edge of yours." He returns, amused.
(Truthfully, he doesn't care. He doesn't think anybody else should care. Estinien's skill speaks for itself, he shouldn't need any polish)
He's quiet for a moment as Estinien rolls his shoulders, letting his gaze stray - he doesn't suspect Estinien of showing off, but he's not going to miss the opportunity to enjoy the view.
"Hmm?" he snaps his eyes back up to Estinien's face, replays the comment in his mind and laughs slightly at the follow up "I don't think there's anything wrong with your posture."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
<3
Aymeric smiles slightly, tilting his head to concede the point - and accept the implied compliment.
He wouldn't mind so much, he thinks, being subject to Estinien's attention. It would feel like a victory he never expected to crave, for one, but more importantly everything he's learned about Estinien implies that he would care more about who Aymeric is and what he can do than he'd listen to petty gossip or familial reputation. He'd like to be measured on his own deeds and not where he came from.
(It's a desire shared by a lot of knights, he knows, and yet despite that so many of them will still judge each other for the very thing they don't wish to be judged for themselves)
Estinien looking away is at once a relief and disappointment. He felt caught by those eyes as surely as if they were a lance pinning him in place, it was an intense feeling... but he didn't hate it.
(He shouldn't let his mind linger on the idea of Estinien pinning him into place, it brings other thoughts that are rather difficult to ignore)
"Stubbornness, I think," he admits with a faint smile "and a certain determination. Traits you clearly share, given your single minded pursuit of our foe..."
lads is it gay to ask a cute boy to sword fight with you
"We have something in common?" he wonders, amused but unsure. Estinien's stubbornness has never been hailed as a virtue -- at least, not 'til now. Charmless obstinance, a tutor had called it that once, and that had been one of the nicer descriptions.
No teacher, no master, would ever call Ser Aymeric's own stubbornness charmless or obstinate -- that much is obvious from a glance.
Aymeric, Estinien thinks to himself, tipping his gaze up to examine him through his lashes, has the makings of a classic Ishgardian hero. Estinien may not have known him before, but Ever Lakes had shown him to be steadfast. Just foolhardy enough to be courageous instead of stupid. And, looking at him now, fine featured and carefully composed, with that mysterious smile--oh, yes, the bards will be singing of him.
So, it feels strange to have their qualities compared favorably, and by the man himself even. Is it idle flattery? Probably. In the city proper, it so often is, but Estinien doesn't really care. No, as he tips his chin back up, he decides that he would not at all mind being idly flattered by Ser Aymeric for an evening.
The bar maid returns with a flagon at just that moment, stopping Estinien from getting annoyed with himself for having such useless thoughts. He accepts the drink with a nod of thanks, doing his best impression of even composure, then turns his attention back to Aymeric.
"Aye, perhaps we do." They call him a lone wolf for a reason. Why form attachments when it seems the fate of soldiers and common folk is to die in fire? Why worry about anything but stopping this war? He is not given to putting names to faces, let alone forging bonds. So, he isn't sure why he decides to add, "Grounds enough to me. Even if our superiors see fit to put us in separate units, I would not mind training with you from time to time. Lance against sword?"
idk but Aymeric's gonna make it gay
Aymeric's lips quirk into a slight smile at Estinien's musing - he doesn't sound convinced, but Aymeric is. He's a little - or a lot - more diplomatic than Estinien is, he can already tell that much, but that doesn't make him any less determined to see his goals realised. He just does it in a slightly different way.
Then Estinien is looking up through his lashes and Aymeric is struck by just how impossibly beautiful he is. All cool shades and sharp edges like he's been carved from marble, or ice, but there's nothing cold about him at all - no, Estinien is heat and fire and passion that draws Aymeric in like a moth. It should make him just as untouchable, but against all good sense Aymeric finds himself more than willing to get burned.
Estinien has to be the one, surely, his soulmate. Aymeric has never wanted anyone like this, not ever.
His smile grows a little wider at the offer and he nods with a barely a moment's hesitation.
"I would be delighted to go a few rounds with you... in the training field." He says smoothly. The pause is brief, brief enough that one might be forgiven for thinking they imagined, or for missing it altogether. It's definitely there, though.
making it worse
He is not given to noticing little pauses, to picking up on implied meanings, or bothering to acknowledge them on the rare occasion when he does. But this one? This one he notices, like grasping hot metal.
It's the color, he decides in that moment. This is what happens to everyone. You see a person, and suddenly you're mad with little distractions -- midnight dark hair, impossibly blue eyes, and slender shoulders that belie what must surely be a strong form.
What an absolute waste of time. Estinien takes a drink, hoping the ale will cool some of the heat building under his skin. It does not. So in the next second, he resolves to solve this insistent feeling by satisfying it.
...After a bit of fun.
Estinien's faint smirk pulls into a grin, "And if you can best me there, perhaps elsewhere, as well."
worse...or better? (Both)
Aymeric sips at his own drink, letting the silence settle between them and just waiting - he's quietly certain that Estinien has picked up on his implication, there's something about the other man's expression that suggests he's mulling it over, and Aymeric is wildly curious to see what he's going to do about it.
When the grin settles across Estinien's lips, Aymeric's own smile becomes smugly pleased, even before he speaks. The words draw a laugh from him, and a rush of unexpected delight. It's hardly a surprise that Estinien is so much more forthright, less prone to dancing around a subject with careful euphemisms the way Aymeric does, but it is quite refreshing. Flattering, too.
"I see." he says softly, taking another sip of his drink as if considering the offer, despite knowing full well he's going to agree to it "Well, if besting you in the training field is what it's going to take, I shall have to make sure I do not lose."
nearby patrons are getting up to leave because the UST is disrupting the vibe
Aymeric may wear a perfectly cool smile, he may seem effortlessly collected, utterly composed, but Estinien can see that he is a gambler. Stubborn, yes, and audaciously ambitious, too. Perhaps they do have something in common -- many things, even.
Estinien can see the fire burning him. Just a hint of it, there in that smug smile and his performatively slow thoughtfulness, like a furtively stolen glimpse of another soldier's form in the barracks, when you aren't quite sure whether they'd meant to be seen.
It is a blaze not unlike his own. Less dark, perhaps, but burning no less hot. And, near as he can tell, directed entirely his way, at the moment.
He likes it. A bit too much, actually. Would love to have the chance to coax it out of him, see it unmasked on his face, in his eyes, in brilliant color. And maybe it'd be most efficient to just get a room upstairs and fumble through finding it now, but no -- it'll be all the better if the flame is first stoked.
Like a dare, Estinien says, "Best not disappoint me, Ser Aymeric. When shall we have our contest?"
they're just jealous
Aymeric had fully intended to bring up soulmates during this meeting, had wanted to make subtle enquiries to determine if Estinien was, in fact, the reason he now saw in full colour - if Estinien saw it too. It's rare to be so easily distracted from his purpose, and yet right now he doesn't even care if Estinien is his soulmate, as long as he doesn't stop flirting with him.
(He's sure he is, he must be, for things to get so heated between them so quickly, it only made sense)
His smile doesn't waver, but his eyes burn with determination at the challenge Estinien lays down before him.
"Why not tomorrow? If you are recovered well enough..." He doesn't want to waste any time at all getting this man into his bed.
If asked directly whether he or Estinien would win in a fight, he might have been unsure, they were both very capable. In these circumstances? He isn't going to let himself lose.
me, too tbh
Since he'd been pulled from the burning ruins of his home, Estinien had wanted for only one thing. It is a strange feeling, desiring aught else. But, it is there now, amid all this new color. But soulmates don't even enter into this. It's just hunger, and yes, it is a gnawing one, sudden and sizzling. A raw desire to see what animal thing hides beneath that perfect smile.
He will focus better once it's sated. And until then, well, it's fun, trying to get the pretty high born boy to crack.
Estinien makes a point of letting his gaze travel slowly down Aymeric's form, then back up to his eyes once more. "You're sure you can wait that long?"
Re: me, too tbh
There's something about the way Estinien's gaze keeps catching on him that sends lightning racing up and down Aymeric's spine, and he finds himself idly wondering if he'll ever get used to being the focus of the other man's attention. He's not sure he wants to.
Having those stormy eyes trace down his body, too, is a thrill that brings a satisfied smirk to his lips and in truth he's not sure he can wait that long, but he maintains his composure. Strangely, it helps him quell the raging fire of his wanting to know that the feeling is clearly entirely mutual - it's going to happen sooner or later, he doesn't have to embarrass himself by being desperate about it.
"Are you?" He returns with a quirk of his eyebrow.
Re: me, too tbh
In a battle of words, Estinien is sure that Ser Aymeric will eventually emerge victorious, but he is not totally unarmed, himself. He has his taciturn obstinance to rely on. One shoulder pops up in a noncommital shrug, and he takes a long drink of ale before responding.
"You'll find, Ser Aymeric, that I can be very patient when needed." He tilts his chin up in an effort to hide the smile that tips the corners of his mouth. "Hunting dragons, as I'm sure you know, helps to build that sort of endurance."
Re: me, too tbh
Some part of Aymeric is wondering if he isn't shooting an arrow into his own foot by meeting this challenge head on and delaying the chance to get his hands on Estinien, but a much larger part of himself knows that Estinien wouldn't be nearly so interested if Aymeric conceded too soon.
Well, that and he's having far too much fun to give in, no matter how his baser urges might desire it.
The tilt of Estinien's head does nothing to hide the smile, and Aymeric's expression is still very much like a contented cat with an entire bowlful of cream.
"Ah, yes, one imagines it does..." He agrees smoothly "I shouldn't worry, though, such endurance is not like to be required, I'll beat you soon enough."
Re: me, too tbh
What a strange man he is. Clearly a superlative speaker and soldier, and nigh imperturbable to boot. He'd be better served putting his talents to use making friends among the other noble house sons and brothers who stand to inherit. And yet, here he is, in a dark tavern, making foolish deals with a lowborn orphan.
Estinien is not often intrigued by people, but this young man -- Estinien cannot deny that he is interesting.
"If you can't beat me, though, I'd have payment..." he doesn't need to think it over, he already knows what he wants, but he still pauses a moment to gauge Aymeric's reaction before adding, "Information, maybe. About you."
Re: me, too tbh
Aymeric, of course, would argue that somebody as gifted and ambitious as Estinien is surely going to rise through the ranks, if not follow in his mentor's footsteps and become the Azure Dragoon himself, and actually he's an excellent person to form a connection with.
If he was actually thinking about Estinien in such terms, which he isn't. He's actually struggling to think about anything in that moment beyond how beautiful Estinien's smile is and how he wants to see it again and again.
He does snap out of it when the other man speaks, though, the shifting terms of the bet earning a raised eyebrow from him as he considers it.
"Very well." he says after a moment - he's hardly going to say no to something so simple, not when it's something Estinien could find out so easily anyway, and especially not when he's frankly flattered that Estinien would consider information about him something worth wagering.
"If you win, I will answer any three questions you wish."
Re: me, too tbh
He's being more than a bit of an ass, admittedly, but however he may seem to be behaving, he can at least readily admit to himself that he does wish to know more about Aymeric de Borel. His background, what drives him to such persistence, perhaps his aspirations, his interests, what sort of food he likes--
Well, the why of it all, he can lie to himself about that easily enough. But, whatever his motivations, knowing more about Ser Aymeric feels... beneficial. In many, many ways.
"Or will it be just the once?"
Re: me, too tbh
"If you chance to best me more than once, or at all, then yes. Three questions each time."
He's still quite determined to win this little bet, but it's rather encouraging that Estinien seems intent on giving him more chances - it confirms that they would both rather be tumbling in the sheets than on a practice field, but they're also both too stubborn to back down from this. Not that Aymeric sees the need to back down if he's going to get what he wants - what they both want - in the end anyway, even if it does take him a few attempts.
"We have a deal." He says with a nod, draining the rest of his tankard.
Re: me, too tbh
"I look forward to our match, Ser Aymeric," he says with unhidden arrogance. He sees no reason to hide his cofindence. He will win, easily, he's sure of it. And perhaps the Estinien of a bell ago would've been satisfied with that much -- settling a bet neatly -- but Estinien now, well, he's intrigued by the bet.
He fishes a few gil out of his pocket and sets them on the table, to cover the drinks, as promised, and downs the contents of his flagon. "I will see you tomorrow, then. Noon. On the training field?"
Re: me, too tbh
"As do I." Aymeric agrees with that same smug little smile. Either way it turns out, it's going to be interesting, he thinks.
"Tomorrow at noon." he confirms before wishing Estinien a good night. He practically floats back to the De Borel manor afterwards - he could be spending his nights in the dormitories, but like many young knights with noble families he takes advantage of being actually in Ishgard to split his time between there and home. He's up bright and early the following morning, though, already heading to the temple knights' headquarters to get some warm up training in before the fight.
At noon on the dot, he's waiting in the training field. A few other young knights are gathered nearby, having gotten the sense that something was about to happen and sticking around to watch the show.
Re: me, too tbh
So, Estinien whiles away his evening wandering the streets of Ishgard. Though it's made him cross, he can't deny that this new vibrance has made the world much more interesting. It's easy to get lost in all this new detail, green in the Hoplon, gold decorating the Vault, fluttering red in banners and flame, and blue... everywhere.
All that blue, and none of it quite like the clear light in Ser Aymeric's eyes.
Estinien concludes his evening in the Brume, purposefully losing a few rounds of a dice game with teenagers gathered round a blazing sconce, before carrying his tired body back to the dormitories to sleep.
Much like Aymeric, he wakes early the next morning, though his own warm up takes him out to Coerthas. In a rare show of promptness, he arrives to their appointed showdown at precisely noon, and ignores both the hushed murmurs that erupt from the gaggle of onlookers at his arrival and the little leap his heart gives when he spies his sparring partner.
Best to get this squared away -- though, not without a bit of good-natured trash talk, first.
"Really, Ser Aymeric?" Estinien muses with a smile, readying his lance with a sweep that points the business end toward the gathered knights. "Brought your fan club?"
[ was going to handwave us past the fight with this tag, but I figure Aymeric may want to respond to Estinien being a shit. we can scoot past the fight in another tag or two? ]
Re: me, too tbh
"No. There is only one person's presence on this field that I care about." Aymeric says smoothly, a hint of a smirk crossing his lips "Though I can't deny it will be enjoyable to have witnesses for my victory."
It's bravado pure and simple, in truth he'd rather not have anybody else around, he has a feeling this fight might be a lot more interesting without witnesses. Still, he was truthful about the first part - his focus is on Estinien and nobody else.
"If you're ready to begin, shall we?" He says, drawing his sword in readiness.
i powerplayed a wee bit for the handwave so plz plz let me know if that wasn't cool and I'll edit!!
"Aye," Estinien drops his stance, "Let's see your skill with a blade."
An inexperienced swordsman against a young man who'd spent nearly half his life with spear in hand -- Estinien expects their clash to be brief.
It is not.
Though clearly unmatched in trained skill with his chosen weapon, Aymeric more than meets Estinien in sheer relentlessness. Each time it seems Estinien nearly has him, Aymeric comes back at him twice as fierce. He wants this, badly, even Estinien can tell. And it only makes the flame beneath his own skin burn hotter. Still, though. He won't give victory away -- not today.
They're both nearly spent when Estinien finally disarms him. The fight ends with Aymeric on the ground and Estinien crouched over him, breathing heavily, lance point to neck.
Aymeric is maddeningly beautiful with his face flush, sweat damp dark hair stuck to his forehead. The gathered crowd -- which had only grown in number once their fight had begun -- erupts in cheers, but Estinien doesn't even notice. For the first time since gray had become red and green and blue and gold, he thinks... this, the bleed of color into his life had been worth it for this.
He stows his lance and offers his arm to help Aymeric up. He has three questions to ask him now, three chances to learn more, but what he blurts instead is, "Rematch. In five days."
No it's perfect <3
Aymeric is not expecting victory to be easy - in fact he, like Estinien, is half expecting defeat to come swiftly. He's fairly sure some of the watching knights are expecting that too.
He's determined, though, and stubborn, and that seems to count for something - he refuses to give up, until the world narrows down to only the two of them, the watching crowd fades away and there's nothing but the ringing clash of sword against lance and the mingled sound of their breaths coming heavier and heavier as the match continues.
Eventually, though, the strain of it gets to him, a slightly fumbled swing. He might have gotten away with it against a lesser opponent but of course Estinien jumps upon the opening without hesitation, and in what seems like moments his sword is lost and he's on his back with the tip of Estinien's lance just pressing into his neck - enough for him to feel its presence, but not enough to be painful or draw blood.
It is, he thinks, staring up at Estinien's silvery eyes, shockingly hot.
He doesn't even have the energy to feel bad about thinking that.
He smiles ruefully, taking the offered hand and pulling himself to his feet. He's already intending on asking for a rematch anyway when Estinien, flatteringly, is the first one to say it. His smile becomes a little more pleased, despite the loss, and he nods.
"Five days." he agrees - he'd want sooner, in truth, but he could take the time to prepare.
"And in the meantime, your questions." He says easily, moving to retrieve his dropped sword and sheathe it "Now, if you like, or once we've both had opportunity to catch our breath."
Re: No it's perfect <3
He's never cared for crowds, for attention, for anything remotely like adulation. Attentive gazes, hushed whispers -- he doesn't know what to do with them, and so he balks. Turns on his heel, ready to leave the training field behind, but... he doesn't just go. He waits, to be sure Aymeric is following, and doesn't speak until he's fetched his waterskin and a fresh towel from a nearby bench.
The skin, he offers to Aymeric, along with his first question, "You're House Borel, right?" He towels the sweat from his brow. "What're your grand plans once you've finished obligatory service? Politics? Clergy? Leisure?"
Re: No it's perfect <3
Aymeric just nods easily, though in truth he's a little grateful - he doesn't expect Estinien to ask anything that others haven't already heard, but he also doesn't know what he'll ask, what kind of thing a man like him might want to find out. As much as he's tried to learn about the other knight since first laying eyes on him, there's still so much about him that's a mystery, so much he hides behind a wall.
It's a wall Aymeric would very much like to bring down.
Aymeric at least spares enough of his attention to give a nod to one or two of the onlookers, but he sweeps after Estinien fast enough to discourage any questions or conversation.
He takes the offered waterskin with a quiet thank you, takes a long sip and tries to focus on the questions and not how Estinien looks all worked up and sweaty.
"I do hope that is not your first question, it would be rather a waste." He observes with a faint smirk "Aye, though, I am of House Borel."
By adoption, but that's more information than he's ben asked for. Not that he's counting it as a question.
"I'm not sure I have any grand plans, in truth." He admits with a light laugh "I imagine I will likely remain with the Temple Knights, perhaps work my way to some kind of command if I am able, though I daresay that is a consideration for the future."
If he even has one - they take their lives in their hands every time they step onto the battlefield, after all.
Re: No it's perfect <3
He rolls his eyes.
"Pff. So much sass from you, Ser Aymeric," Estinien teases, brows beetled. He is no good at this, and lands somewhere between impressed and appalled. "Seems to me, you might also have a future as a headmaster. Nitpicking grammar and posture."
He complains, but Aymeric's real answer had not gone unheard. The knight aspires to greatness, but in a way that most little lordlings don't. No real certainty, no bloviating, no mention of the dreaded, 'my father'. Aymeric is... honest, realistic, intriguing. Fun.
Estinien rolls his shoulders and rights himself, pretending he's not just showing off his physique, "Shall I stand up straighter for you, Professor?" A pause, then a grin, "That's not my second question, either."
Re: No it's perfect <3
Aymeric stifles his laugh at the response, feeling a warmth blossom in his chest at the icy Estinien having thawed enough to tease. It feels nice.
He has had cause to banter before, but it's never felt so enjoyable as even this small needling comment. Sometimes, banter from others has an edge to it, a cruelty that strays a little too close to the bone. This is just nice.
"Well somebody ought to nitpick, you're clearly skilled enough that you're going to go far, and that's going to require a certain amount of etiquette. I consider it a service to the future to polish those rough edge of yours." He returns, amused.
(Truthfully, he doesn't care. He doesn't think anybody else should care. Estinien's skill speaks for itself, he shouldn't need any polish)
He's quiet for a moment as Estinien rolls his shoulders, letting his gaze stray - he doesn't suspect Estinien of showing off, but he's not going to miss the opportunity to enjoy the view.
"Hmm?" he snaps his eyes back up to Estinien's face, replays the comment in his mind and laughs slightly at the follow up "I don't think there's anything wrong with your posture."
He doesn't really mean posture.
"What is your second question?"
Re: No it's perfect <3
Re: No it's perfect <3
Re: No it's perfect <3
Re: No it's perfect <3
patented "oh no I'm about to feel a feeling" Estinien Exit
classic
"i have struggled in vain and i can bear it no longer..." but make it AGGRESSIVELY Worse
better*
Re: better*
Re: better*
Re: better*
Re: better*
now i reveal that i wanted to do the tie so i could write a litely trashy tag
a perfectly reasonable reason XD
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need to start writing less bad characters sigh
'bad' is a weird way to spell perfect
i appreciate that you love this lad
Re: i appreciate that you love this lad
Re: i appreciate that you love this lad
lmk if this skips too much
no it is perfect here have some trash also sorry i took so long to reply ;A;
worth the wait!
i already told you i love that tag but i have to say it again djaklf
<3
Re: <3
Re: <3
just letting them have some fun
Re: just letting them have some fun
probably ftb after this lmaooo sob sorry!!!
<3
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